It
happened swiftly. Almost unheard; definitely unseen. It was an
awakening so rapid that even the quickest rumbling of the earth was
as the movement of an old man in comparison.

The
wounded nature of a being so caught up in life was no defense. How
could it be? Many would now doubt the protections given to the
infirm. Revert to natural state of man.

Frank
Mann was one of the few who pushed forward, stretching the last
finger to reach the locked door. He carried a pick in his pocket. He
broke thorough. How many others did the same might be difficult to
figure.

Frank
opened his eyes to a sterling sky–he thought that it was the sky,
though it was below him. Or was he above it? He turned a puzzled
head. Of course the two choices were the same–one is above, one is
below. That is the way that he had always been taught. He had been
taught correctly. He thought that he had been taught correctly.

He
could not shake the idea of a difference. But what was this
difference?

He
was standing and looking. Eyes–eyes, they were blue were they
not?–roaming, taking in a broad plain, of oranged grass. He thought
that it was grass–but it was smooth, yet not stone. There was a
forest–he was on the edge, the trees were too tall to be natural.
An ocean–a cesspool of steal, reflecting the image of the sky–in
the middle of the plain. How? The plain was all-encompassing, the
ocean infinite. In all directions. Everywhere. They were distinct
from one another.

He
did not know where he was. His thoughts were clear. Clearer than ever
before. He knew who he was. And he was a man alone in a new world and
he feared nothing.

After
time had passed, Frank did not know how much, he began to walk,
making his way slowly down a sloping field. He could feel the trees
whispering behind him, and stars shining high over his head, even
though it was day.

He
came to the ocean, which was not quite an ocean, and sat on the
water's edge, allowing the gentle waves to lap over his bare feet.
When had he taken off his shoes? He could not remember, but there
they sat, beside him, and not on his feet. Just as his pants were
rolled up to a little below his knees.Most curious.

The
water was utterly cool, contrasting smoothly with the warmth of the
orange grasslike plants of the ground. The plants grew all the way to
the water's edge, and now that he could feel the plants of the
plain, rubbing it between his fingers, he picked up on the texture of
glass. Glass? Plant? Glass is all that would come to mind, but it did
not make sense. Frank accepted it anyway. He moved his eyes over the
ocean and the color beckoned him to it. He wanted to be a part of it.
All he would have to do...

He
stripped, peeling off first his loose shirt, then stepping clear of
his pants, and walked in. The sea floor sloped off gently into deeper
waters, like all the land in this place sloped. It made Frank think
that the land was leading him to a central point.

He
swam. Lifted one arm over his head, let it fall into the water, and
continued. He seemed to be floating just under the surface, looking
up at light scattered by aqua reflections–but he was breathing air,
clean and fresh. Unbelievably crisp and inviting. He swam, and swam,
and swam. He did not grow tired, only more vigorous as he moved
forward, or backward, or sideways, or whatever way it was that he
went. It was all the same, completely inconsequential, all that
mattered was himself–his mind, his thoughts, his purpose–and
reaching the center point to which he was drawn. He would find
answers there. Answers to the questions that he asked, that he
wondered, all about this strange and beautiful place.

He
drifted away. He looked at himself. And he fell to the ground–or
jumped to it, because it was of course above him. There were people
surrounding him in a room of sparkling stone–an underwater
cave?–and the people were smiling. Frank was nude, but not
embarrassed. For the first time in his life he knew that it was okay
to be himself. He was good.

A
woman stepped forward, she was dressed in a gown of a color and
material that Frank had never before seen. He was vaguely reminded of
purple, but it was not quite purple. He was reminded of silk, but it
was not quite silk. Frank smiled at the woman. She was lovely, but
not in a conventional sense. She was different. Her eyes were
slightly higher on her head than those of the people Frank knew from
life. Her mouth was smaller, her nose wider, and her ears longer. Her
hair was like cotton, white and fluffy, but she was not old, or maybe
she was, but she did not have wrinkles. She moved before him and
bowed a slight greeting, her hands together, fingertips barely
touching. Frank felt that he should do the same. He did.

The
woman spoke, in a voice ethereal, reminiscent of a cat's purr.
"Tell us your story Frank Mann. Tell us all that you have seen, and
all that you know. Tell us why you have come to us. Tell us so that
we know, so that you can become part of us, and join us in a new
life."

Frank
heard this, and welcomed the task, so he began to tell the story of
his life.

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